


His True Home

by miraculart (Musical_Meg), ohlookatthestars (KanbaraAkhito)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Childhood Friends AU, Forbidden, Headcanon, Kova - Freeform, Lotor/Allura friendship, Lotura - Freeform, Pre-Canon, friends against all odds, unfortunate happenings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-02-15 22:23:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13040685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musical_Meg/pseuds/miraculart, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KanbaraAkhito/pseuds/ohlookatthestars
Summary: Lotor didn't want to meet the princess. Why would he? Wasn't he enough for his parents?He wasn't. His parents robbed him, they took his childhood, his innocence, his claim to the throne. But he's thankful, the one thing his parents did right for him, was introduce him to his best friend, his new family, and his true home.--Collab fic, childhood AU; Cross-posted on Tumblr @miraculart; @litttlewings; Rated T, just in case.





	1. -Chapter One-

**Author's Note:**

> I'm super excited to share this multi-chap collab. It's hard to believe this all started with a simple "what-if" conversation. Updates will be irregular, but expect chapter 2 soon!

“Lotor! Come downstairs for a tic, dear.” Mama’s voice called sweetly from the living room. ‘That’s strange,’ he thought, his parents usually aren’t home for another couple of vargas… oh well, that meant more time to play! Lotor ran down the staircase excitedly, he never gets to spend all that much time with his parents, he’s cared for by Kit, his nanny. Not that he doesn’t love Kit! She and Kova are his best friends in the whole world. 

Lotor came to a sharp stop at Kit’s feet. “Now, now, Lotor, do we run in the house?” she scolded.  
He hung his head, platinum curls bouncing, “No.” He got busted for reckless behavior often.

Honerva dismissed Kit with a nod and a small smile, kneeling down to take the little prince’s hands. “Lotor, do you know why Papa and I are here earlier than normal?” He shook his head, he thought they were going to play, maybe they were going on a trip instead! He loved visiting Altea, and the battle station was always fun! “Well, Uncle Alfor’s wife just had her baby, and we’re going to go visit!” A baby? Why is that anything special? Oh well, he gets to see Uncle Alfor, so it’ll be fun! 

He looks up at his mother with a toothy grin, “Okay, Mama!” 

When they arrived at the Altean castle, they were directed by the guards to the living quarters. Lotor spotted Alfor in the reclining chair, promptly taking off screaming: “Uncle Alfor! Uncle Alfor!” 

Said uncle, and new father, jolted up and scanned the room, frantic. “What, what! Diapers? Food? Maybe your binky…?” 

Zarkon chuckled heartily, “Ah, enjoying your newborn I see?” Alfor relaxed at the sight of his old (and rather amused) friend. 

He yawned. “Yes, as exciting as it is to have her here, I haven’t slept more than fifteen doboshes in 3 quintents...” trailing off, he looked at Zarkon hopefully, pleading that it might get easier with time. 

Zarkon sighed, sympathetic to the other father’s first phoeb fatigue. His tone light, he confesses, “It doesn’t get better. You’ll just get used to sleeping less and less often.” The disheartened howl that escaped Alfor’s mouth was otherworldly. He zoned out, defeated. 

Lotor tugged on the tall man’s wrinkled robes, “Uncle Alfor, will you play with me?” Alfor looked down at the little boy with a grimace. Exhausted as he was, that child had him wrapped around his tiny purple fingers, who could say no to those big golden eyes? “Well, I don’t see-” he started. 

Honerva cut him off. “Alfor why don’t you get back to sleep, we’re here to see Allura after all!” 

Alfor glanced at her gratefully. With a yawn, he nodded towards the far staircase, “Of course, she’s in the nursery, just over there.” 

Lotor crossed his arms with a scowl. No fun, first he didn’t get to play with his parents, and Mama stopped Uncle Alfor from playing with him. He huffed pointedly as Mama pushed him towards the nursery. 

She shushed him gently, and whispered “are you ready to meet the princess, Lotor?” He shook his head. He had no appreciation for anything that took attention off himself. Why would they need anyone else? Wasn’t he enough for them? 

He glared at the bright blue room in disdain, so frilly and girly… Aunty was on a covered couch in the corner. She smiled sweetly and held a finger to her lips. He knew that one, the silent game! He closed his lips tightly, not even his breath would escape! She beckoned them over with a couple slow waves of her fingers, her smile fading from her cheeks, but remaining in her sparkling amethyst eyes. 

Mama apparently couldn’t contain herself, she muttered, “Oh, she’s beautiful!” His Papa smiled fondly at the crib, but Lotor couldn’t understand why! There was nothing in there but blankets. He squeaked, struggling to hold his breath any longer, and gasped loudly for air. The room smelled sugary, like the Altean desserts Kit let him try from time to time. 

Aunty laughed under her breath and spoke softly, “would you like to hold her, Lotor?” 

He looked at her, wide-eyed in disbelief, why would he want to hold this thing, this.. this.. play-time hog? He flinched as she stood up and reached over the looming cradle, pulling a small bundle of blankets and curly white hair, just like his, out from the confines of the crib. “Lotor,” she smiled at him, “meet Princess Allura.” She held the bundle out to him, he took it gently, fearful that he might break the small creature. This was the attention-thieving princess? But, she’s so small, so fragile and... sweet smelling?

She blinked open her eyes, a brilliant sapphire blue, then a striking purple, a kaleidoscope of exceptional beauty. It was at that moment he swore he would do everything in his power to protect this perfect little being. Smiling toothless-ly, she reached out and grabbed his nose in her tiny little fist. “Hey, that hurt!” he exclaimed softly, but smiling nonetheless. As he looked down at her giggling little body, he never wanted to let her go. 

Unbeknownst to the young royalty, their mothers watched with wise smiles as a new generation of peace was born. 

\---

Lotor yelped as a rattle sailed over his head. 

At two, Allura was already manifesting the natural strength that was common to the Altean race. He scowled at her disdainfully and she giggled, reaching a small, but obscenely powerful hand to pat his cheek. A smile from her was all it took to earn his forgiveness, and this she knew. 

He motioned to her, feeling highly responsible at the mature age of six, and she clambered obediently into his lap. Grabbing a device by his side, Lotor projected a map of stars onto the walls of the nursery, delighting in the little princess’ amused claps. The next varga went in detailing numerous constellations to Allura. Most would think she would have bored easily of Lotor pointing and describing stars in words she could not properly understand, but the young princess sat still in rapt attentiveness, her multicolored eyes reflecting the galaxies around her. 

Lotor himself loved the stars—astronomy in general, actually. Kit had spent phoebs teaching him a new constellation every night before he slept, and sometimes they would sit together and spin stories about the creatures hidden in the stars. These were the stories he now passed to Allura. 

A sound on the stairs to the nursery caught his attention and Lotor’s fingers instinctively slipped to the small knife his father had gifted him at five phoebs of age. His training had been kept light until now, but his father was nothing if not a warrior. 

Luckily, no threat awaited the two children. Father and Lotor’s Uncle Alfor entered the room, followed by their wives. Alfor, Honerva, and Allura’s mother chatted happily about a recent alchemical discovery, his father struggling to follow along. To mask this, he turned to his son. 

“Lotor?” he questioned, “Where is the young princess?”

“Father? What do you mean? She’s right—“ He looked down, panic rising as he realized he had, in fact, lost Allura.

He turned a helpless look to the adults, forcing back the tears welling in his eyes. Alfor noticed his distress, despite Lotor’s best attempts to hide it, and gave him a comforting smile.

“It’s alright, Lotor. Allura’s shapeshifting abilities are not yet under her control; no harm has befallen her.”

Zarkon nodded along, clever eyes scouring the room.

“Ah!” He took a few confident steps into the room, reaching into a corner. “I’ve found her. Clever little girl, isn’t she?”

In his hands he carried a little mouse. Lotor frowned at it, observing. It was a small thing, violet in color and quivering in Zarkon’s fingers. He doubted that the trembling creature was the same princess who had nearly broken a guard’s fingers in her excitement.

Alfor, it seemed, shared this thought, as his lips pressed into a thin line, barely stifling his laughter. 

“A creative find, Zarkon,” he chuckled, “But I do believe my daughter is over there.”

Their eyes followed in the direction he indicated, and there Allura was, her familiar eyes peeking out amidst the stony likeness of Balmeran skin. She waved happily, the sight of her parents exciting her enough to shift back into her Altean state. 

“Ah,” Zarkon said, markedly less enthusiastic. He released the mouse from the cage of his fingers, standing awkwardly at the room’s center. 

“It seems I was mistaken,” he coughed with what dignity he could muster.

The Altean King and Queen grinned, shaking their heads at Zarkon fondly and crossing the nursery to their daughter, who eagerly awaited their approach. Lotor watched them fawn over her with a detached interest, turning to survey his own parents. They spoke quietly, unaware of his attention. Lotor was aware they loved him, but they were not showy about it. Mother spent much of her time in the lab, keeping Kova for company. He was forbidden on the basis that dangerous specimen were housed there, but Lotor thought it more likely his mother didn’t want him in her way. Father was busy ruling over Daibazaal and dealing with intergalactic issues as the leader of Voltron. But so was Uncle Alfor, and he still had time for his precious daughter. Lotor felt a spike of jealousy in his heart, followed quickly by shame. He wished no ill will for the Princess, and he would not allow hatred and longing to shape his actions. 

“Lotor,” his mother called. “It’s time we return home.”

The young prince turned, wanting to argue. Before he could get a word out, he caught his mother’s eye, and anything he might have said died in his throat. There was a hard edge, an obsessive one, in his mother’s eye. She craved her lab, her studies, her research on the rift Lotor had heard about in passing. Her fingers twitched, and Lotor observed the moment.

“Yes, Mother,” he replied a moment later. He didn’t want to know what she would say if he argued. He didn't want to know if his mother would choose her work over his request. 

“I’ll walk you out,” Alfor offered, and fell into step between Honerva and Zarkon. Lotor wondered if he noticed that he was really the only one talking. Allura’s mother watched them go, her smile settling into something more pensive. The princess fingered the tassels of her mother’s shawl, distracted, and Lotor used the time to summon a sunny smile. 

“Goodbye, Allura,” he called, his teeth aching as he forced them in place. He nodded at Allura’s mother, who returned the gesture. Allura, however, frowned, as though she could feel Lotor’s discomfort.

“Bye,” she squeaked a moment later, but none of her previous exhilaration remained.

With a heavy heart and a heavier yet grin, Lotor turned to leave the castle. It would be some time before he saw his dearest friend again. 

\---

Lotor spent his quintents in turmoil. At more than a deca-phoeb old, every other pre-teen would be in school, or playing with their friends, not Lotor. No, his father, the Empire of the whole quiznak-ing Galran Empire, started him in basic army training six phoebs ago, shortly after his mother began to push him away, favoring her precious quintessence research. Lotor’s only solace was in his one movement’s end off every three or four spicolian movements or so, when he was permitted to travel to Altea and spend time enjoying the limited childhood extended to him by Alfor and his wife. With the rigorous daily training, reduced social life, and his parents reluctance to show any sort of compassion, Lotor’s Altean escapades were his safe zone, his escape. 

He often questioned if it was his fault his parents were so cold towards him, was he the reason his mother was withering away before his eyes? Did he do something that drove her to care for her work more than her only son? His father did try to care, granted, in his own way. He thought preparing Lotor was the best way to keep him safe, or at least give them a common activity to discuss in the rare moments they shared. He had approached Alfor with these very questions. Alfor tried to be supportive, he offered advice, extended a hand of compassion, even welcomed Lotor into his home and family. If Lotor was to recognize a true father figure in his life, it would be Alfor. His home was in Altea. And so, during the more grueling and daunting sparring sessions, Lotor thought of them. “Just get through this session,” “two more cycles,” “a couple more varga,” he repeated to himself constantly. If he could survive training, he could see his family, he could go home. 

He used to be jealous of Allura, she always had both parents there, doting on her. Her father didn’t force her to train, but he’d never deny her the opportunity to spar, even at such a young age. Her mother wasn’t working at all hours of the day, keeling over with pain before getting back up to do more experiments. Nobody could deny that the Alteans had been an incredible support system for Lotor, he had no need to feel jealous of Allura, because he too received the love and care she was given in plentiful amounts. 

Thankfully, the end of the third cycle had finally arrived. Animated with rightfully childish glee, he sped from the facilities faster than an angry klanmuirl and ran for the transport port. 

Alfor taught him how to pilot the transfer pods last phoeb, he wanted to make sure Lotor could get to Altea, pilot or not. Swiping his card at the entry gate, he flew past the guard station and circled around the back surveying the dock for his favorite pod. It was a bit rusty, but a brilliant purple color, just like the Altean flowers that grew just outside the castle, and it flew just as well as the finest ships in the fleet. 

He approached the pod carefully, attempting to avoid aggravating the crusty old thing. He opened the hatch and climbed in, buzzing with excitement. He had prepared a whole new set of stories to tell Allura tonight, seven phoebs old and she still loved to hear his bedtime stories. Unfortunately, he had run out of actual constellation fables by the time she was four. Kit helped him write some new ones until he started to understand how stories work. Now, he spends the little free time he has writing about the adventures of his favorite constellation, Proth, and Allura’s favorite constellation, Axthyl. A smile tugged at his lips, he couldn’t wait to see her. 

The ride to Altea wasn’t terribly long, he spent the time humming old Altean tunes to himself while he drove the pod. It didn’t have an auto-pilot setting, it was far too old to house such software, but he didn’t mind. Flying the pod always had a way of settling his mind. He took the time to wonder what was in store for him this time. Would the Queen prepare her wonderful nunvill again? Nothing like a nice hot mug of nunvill by the fire. 

With cozy thoughts of fires and blankets and bedtime stories, Lotor pulled into the docking bay outside the palace. He was well aware of the fact that he stuck out like a choferiak’s nose on Altea, his purple complexion was certainly unusual, and highly frowned upon by more of the upper-class citizens, Lotor didn’t mind them much. As long as he was accepted in his home, he couldn’t care less what he looked like. Jogging towards the palace doors, he was stopped by an Altean guard. 

“Where do you think you’re going, young man?” the guard stood in front of him, blocking his path to the castle. 

“Home sir, I’m a close family friend of the royal family. Most everyone here knows that. You must be a new recruit.” Lotor answered respectfully, even if Alfor could order the guard around, picking fights wouldn’t make him any friends. “Here, see that guard over there? Ragnor? He can vouch for me.” Lotor pointed to the senior guard, who was currently leaning up against the outer gate. 

The guard looked down at Lotor disapprovingly, but decided to humor him. He barked, “Ragnor? You recognize this kid?” 

Ragnor lifted his head, when he recognized Lotor he stalked over. In a lazy, east-Altean accent he drawled, “Ey, Lotor! Back from boot camp I see? General’s still workin’ you hard?” Lotor nodded. “Pardon the new recruit, he’s still learning the ropes, jumps the gun like a heifer, know what I mean?” he cackled. Lotor snickered, he could’ve taken the guard down easily. “Oi rookie, this here is Zarkon’s boy. He’s practically an adopted child here, King Alfor says the kid’s allowed everywhere Allura is.” 

The younger guard looked down at Lotor shocked for a tic, fumbling for the right words, “I- I’m so sorry, Lotor, uh, sir? I didn’t realize who you were, please, go right on ahead.” 

“No problem, just remember to let me in next time.” Lotor smiled innocently, no harm, no foul. With that, he turned and sprinted for the palace doors, throwing them open and pounding up the grand steps. “Allura?” he called out for the little devil angel that brought so much light into his life. Listening closely, he could make out the patter of her feet, thundering across the tile floors.

“Lotor! You’re back!” she ran at him and jumped up into his arms. He caught her instinctively. “Do you have more stories for me? Are you ready to play hide and seek? Oh I know, there’s this really cool animal I want to show you! Or would you rather go cloud watching? Or maybe we could-” He put a hand over her mouth, that is, until he felt a slimy, wet….

He recoiled, wiping his hand on his pants. “Hey! You licked me! What was that for?” 

“You put your hand on my mouth.” She looked at him with those big blue eyes and he just couldn’t stay mad. 

“Well, I had to stop your talking somehow! To answer your questions, yes, I have more stories. I would love to play hide-and-seek, and see the cool animal, and go cloud watching, but I need to talk to dad first, okay?” He smiled.

She sighed, “Okay, Daddy is over in the control room, he has guests over though, so you might have to wait a few tics.” 

He rubbed the top of her head. “You know what, I think talking to dad can wait a while anyways, you mentioned hide-and seek?” 

Beaming, she ran off singing: “You’re it!” He just laughed with a smile wider than the Ularian sea.

\---

“What in the good name of Daibazaal is that?”

Lotor watched the strange creature waddle around on its awkward webbed feet. Allura laughed from behind him, stilling her hands. She had spent the last few doboshes weaving junipers they had picked from the castle fields into his hair, a favor he would return when she finished. They sat by the lake, skipping stones and exchanging idle gossip, and, apparently, insulting Altean wildlife. 

“Nineteen phoebs of age, and you don’t recognize a common duflax?” she mocked. 

“Listen,” he replied, tilting his head forward dramatically, “I stopped paying attention to your ridiculous wildlife ever since we ran into that terrifying white creature with solely four limbs.”

“A xznly sqiwl?” She pronounced the awful mix of consonants easily, and Lotor turned a dead look on her.

“Yes,” he said flatly, “That.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, returning to the task at hand, albeit pulling harder. He scowled up at her and she smiled, the picture of innocence.

“That look is going to get you out of intergalactic prison one quintent,” he commented.

“Oh, darling,” Allura replied easily, “As if they’d make it to the prison at all.”

He grinned. “Want to spar?”

“I’m going to pummel you,” she answered, giving up on his hair when he twisted impatiently again, tying it off where she was. 

“Of course.”

A wide smile curved her lips and for a moment, Lotor forgot his troubles on Daibazaal. For a moment, he was four phoebs old once again, setting eyes on a tiny little princess who would one day save the universe from Lotor himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura's coronation day!

The Galran Prince and the Altean Princess, best friends since early childhood, best friends now, on the dawn of her 18th quinent. No being could deny the closeness between the young rulers; the prince spent every chosen moment of his time with the princess, and she counted the dobashi until he’d return from his conquests.

This was the way things were, and to the blissfully unaware, one may even believe they were betrothed by their fathers. However, tensions were rising between the two kingdoms, Emperor Zarkon wanted the power of quintessence to himself, so that he may save his ill wife, Honerva. King Alfor believed this was wrong, and that the vortex should be sealed, preventing any worse evil from escaping what lay beyond the rift. The two rulers, once best friends and trusted battle partners, were seen fighting each other more often than their common enemies. Their relationship remained tame for a time before Honerva’s health took a turn for the worse. With Zarkon newly invigorated, Alfor spent the majority of his time on Daibazaal overseeing the quintessence research and monitoring Zarkon’s actions. Unfortunately for his daughter, Allura, this meant Alfor would not be returning for her 18th celebration.

Prince Lotor was keenly aware of his parent’s actions, for quite some time now, he referred to the pair as his parents only when he needed to exploit his royal privilege within the Galran Empire. Otherwise, he rarely mentioned his mother, and he addressed his father only as “Emperor.” When Lotor received the news that Alfor would not be returning for his daughter’s coronation, the lividity he felt was far beyond comparable. It was the Galran Emperor’s fault Alfor was away on his daughter’s special dobash. Out of spite, Lotor refused to work for the Empire for the entire spicolian cycle. Though elated to spend more time on Altea, he feared the punishment for his insubordination. 

He had surprised her by returning five dobashi earlier than expected. He couldn’t tell her about their fathers’ fights but, he could tell her about all of the incredible worlds he saw, and the amazing journeys he went on while away. He protected her. That was his true job, his true purpose. She would never know the torment of war, or the struggles of their kingdoms, not if he could help it.

\---

Lotor sighed, his breath a pale flume, hovering in the frigid air. Allura leaned against his side, content at sapping the little remaining warmth from his body. They stayed like this, silent, their breaths mixing into a golden inferno, the sun peeking over the flickering ocean horizon. Neither would break the unspoken limbo to complain about the damp, dewy grass soaking their evening wear, nor the biting, bitter cold. On the dawn of each their birthdobashi, they’d greet the morning sun, then watch the peach-colored clouds billow across the quiet fields until breakfast, it became tradition. This was a particularly important dobash for Allura, she’d be officially coronated into the royal court of Altea, formally recognized as a ruler by her people. Alfor had asked Lotor to participate in the royal guard for the event many cycles earlier, who was he to deny the honor? Lotor admired the princess, her eyes their usual kaleidoscope of deep sapphire and blooming amethyst hues. They also reflected the dawn this morning, and in them he saw the galaxies he traveled so fervently. She pivoted with a soft smile, catching his gaze. He shook his head, ruffling her unkempt curls, formidably hiding his embarrassment.

“Ready for your coronation?” he spoke softly, looking off to the distance.

She brought her knees to her chest, and rested her chin on them bashfully. “I suppose I’m as ready as I ever will be... I’ve been training for so long, it’s really just a formality. I’m far more nervous than I know I should be though.” She buried her face into the folds of her night dress. “I wish father were here to help me through it.”

He scowled. He wouldn’t tell her the real reason Alfor wouldn’t be there for the birthdobash celebration and coronation of his only child, it would crush her. Instead, he opted to wrap his arms around her shivering figure, partly to warm, mostly to comfort her. He rest his chin on her head, it would be uncomfortable to speak, but the words needed to be said. “You know he would only miss it if something extremely important were happening. Besides, it’s as you say: ‘merely a formality.’ In Alfor’s eyes, you’ve always been the heir, with or without a proper coronation.” He felt her soften, relaxing in his embrace. “Don’t forget, your mom, Coran, and I will be there to provide all the support you need.”

She hugged him tightly, contorting her body in what couldn’t have been a comfortable position.  
“Thank you, Lotor…” she mumbled. “You know it means the world to have you there with me.”

He returned the hug gently, “You know I wouldn’t miss it for the universe, Princess.” He untangled himself and chuckled jubilantly, “Enough of this seriousness, it’s your birthdobash! Let’s go have fun before you join the stiffs!” Propping himself up, he brushed the wet grass and leaves from his pants. He gave a goofy bow, extending his hand enthusiastically. “Assistance, madam?”

Allura rolled her eyes, reminded of their age old gimmick, but played along, taking his hand. “Why thank you, kind knight, however can I repay you?” She swooned, mocking him in a fit of giggles.

“Why, a quick race to breakfast would certainly be payment enough I think. Your highness?” He paused, searching for a response. She met his gaze, wordlessly accepting his challenge, fire in her eyes. She didn’t pause a moment before sprinting towards the palace grounds.

He struggled after her, slipping on the wet grass. Her voice echoed over the hilltop, “Ready go!” Bearings returned, he raced down the hill following her lead.

Huffing, he barreled into her, wrapping the girl in a large hug and pulling them down, turning to cushion their fall on the well-kept lawn. “Not fair, your highness! But even cheating I can still catch you!” he laughed triumphantly. She just laughed along, collapsing into his chest. Both royals were severely out of breath, and the princess’s dead weight was not helpful in replenishing Lotor’s dwindling supply of oxygen. He pushed her off lightly, gasping for air.

“You’re getting faster!” he managed to confess through several desperate gapes.

She pulled a face, “Unfortunately, I think that’s the last race we’ll be having, now that I have to be all proper and lady-like.” They frowned together, reminiscing in the care-free times of old. Change occurred around them at a pace much faster than either cared to admit or acknowledge.

Coran’s cheerful voice sang overhead. He bellowed, “Well, good morning! Princess, Lotor, I assume you’re ready for breakfast?” The large man peered over the two of them, a glint in his eyes, his bushy orange mustache curled up in a bright smile.

“Good morning, Coran! Breakfast sounds amazing!” Allura responded cheerfully, Lotor regarded him with a nod and a forced smile.

Coran helped Lotor up, then turned to aid his joyful charge, chattering senselessly about coming events. Lotor gestured to the hall, urging Allura to hurry along so they could eat. She eventually caught on to his silent plea and began wrapping up Coran’s increasingly elaborate conversation. Lotor threw her an exasperated sigh, rolling his hands together. ‘Get on with it!’ 

She held up a finger in his direction. ‘Just a tic, I’m almost done.’ Smiling, she pointed a hand to the doors, Coran nodded curtly, turning to continue his walk about the grounds. She skittered to Lotor’s side, apologizing. “Sorry, you know how he is once he gets going!” she confessed.

He shot her a look, lacing his words heavily with sarcasm. “Yes, of course, it’s him that gets going, most definitely not you.” He extended an arm to her, politely offering guidance to breakfast.

She backhanded him lightly on the arm with a scoff, feigning offense, but took his arm, marching in together for their morning meal.

\--- 

Lotor’s reflection cringed with him as he glowered at his mirror. The Altean armor fit him well, much better than any of the Galran combat suits he wore. It was lighter weight, and much more breathable than his battle gear, the white plating complementary to the platinum tones in his hair, but accenting his Galran skin tone. He gripped the smooth wooden corners of his vanity pushing against the rage boiling his blood. He could’ve been an Altean. He would have grown up under Alfor’s intent care, instead of Zarkon’s ignorant neglect. He could’ve been raised a boy, instead raised a soldier. Zarkon’s fault, it all was, the training he went through, the torture he endured, the absence of Alfor from Allura’s life; Zarkon’s fault. Lotor would see his revenge when his parents could no longer withstand the quintessence, when Zarkon decided to pass the Empire on to him, then he would get his revenge. He’d run the Empire with an iron fist and a golden heart. No longer would the worlds he conquered have to suffer in poor living conditions and fear. They would be liberated from their slave conditions and they would work together with the Galra in a state of mutually beneficial symbiosis. He would protect them, all of them. And as for Zarkon? He and Honerva, the batty old hag, would die knowing everything they worked for was destroyed. Yes, when that time came, he would obliterate Voltron and every other trace of quintessence and it’s powers. No being would be corrupted by that evil ever again. Allura would never feel alone again.

A light tap on the door roused Lotor, his thoughts scattering as quickly as they formed. Throatily, he shouted “come in!” scrambling to get the final pieces of the armor together. 

Coran eased open the door slowly, dressed in formal attire himself. He muttered “If only the Princess would keep her room this tidy…” under his breath. 

Lotor smirked, “Now Coran, don’t let her hear you say that! You’ll get an earful about your awful cooking mess! None of us need be reminded of that horror.” 

Coran blinked, then shuddered. Cooking, a battle hard fought, but not won. “Right you are, right you are…” He gave Lotor a once-over. “Your armor is wrong here, let me fix that for you.” He came up behind Lotor and fidgeted with some of the shoulder padding in the back. “There! Much better! Now what to do about that mane of yours…” 

Lotor shrugged and rolled his shoulders around, whatever adjustment Coran made, the suit somehow fit him better than before, and was far more comfortable to move around in. It was almost like wearing training johns, the material was so flexible. He focused in on Coran’s prattling. 

“-do you think?” Coran looked at him expectantly. Lotor totally missed the question. 

“Yeah, uh, sure?” He answered, nervous about what he may have agreed to. 

Coran clapped his hands together loudly, making Lotor flinch. “Oh, splendid! I’ll bring Kavella in right away! She’ll be thrilled to get her hands on that wondrous hair of yours! Lord knows you never let anyone touch it.” 

Lotor panicked, he hated people touching his hair. Well, anyone but Allura that is. “No-no actually, I was thinking-” The door slammed loudly against its frame, bouncing back open, Coran hurried out to find his favorite stylist. Lotor sighed pitifully. “Well, so much for that idea,” he grumbled aloud to no one in particular, “guess I’ll just braid it.”

Another knock on the door, softer yet, despite its being wide open. “Can I come in?” He turned, locks curled carelessly around his fingers, tangled, no doubt. 

“Allura! Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for the corona-... oh.” His mouth ran dry, like cotton balls suddenly replaced his teeth. “You look beautiful, Princess.” Allura floated into the room like some sort of cloud. No, it was the dress she’s wearing, a fabric so thin and elegant, the gossamer glinting. The soft purple and pink hues were uncannily similar to the dawn, bringing out her eyes and accentuating her natural beauty.

She tucked one of her loose curls behind a pointed ear, “You’re doing that wrong. I was always the better braider between the two of us.” She sat on the edge of the bed, patting the comforter in front of her, an invitation to sit. He sat, the bed creaking precariously from his unbalanced weight. 

Lotor turned to look at the princess, but gentle hands pushed his head away, soft fingers running gently through his hair, detangling the impressive fisherman’s knot he’d managed to tie. “Look up for a tic, it’s gotten harder to braid since you got so much taller than me.” He obliged, relishing in the safe, familiar touches. He’d never let anyone touch his hair, and he’d never admit to how good it felt when Allura played with it. 

“There you go, all done.” She pat him patronizingly on the top of his head.

He peeked back up at the mirror, admiring her skilled handiwork. “You get better every time, Princess, I’ll have to catch back up.” He ran a hand down the elegant raised braid cresting his scalp, impeccable. “Thank you, without you, I’d be at the mercy of Coran’s stylists. Can you imagine the gawdy hairstyle they’d have chosen?” He joked, but he couldn’t have been more grateful. Being with her was just what he needed to quench the vengeful fire eating at his soul.

She smiled, “Oh, something awful I assume. Like-” she gasped for sarcastic effect, before lowering her tone dramatically “-shaving it?” 

He feigned injury, lamenting his damaged pride “Oh princess, why must you wound me so? You dare even tease at the murder of my precious locks? A crime worthy of highest treason! Punishment? Death by hugs!” He leapt from his ever-dignified position as a princely puddle on the ground to tackle her into a bear hug.

Allura fretted, pushing his full dead weight off with relative ease. “Oh, careful! This is delicate fabric!” 

Lotor sat up, well aware of the stress looming in the back of her thoughts. His own coronation wasn’t all that long ago. “I’m sorry, Princess, I wasn’t thinking. Now, let’s get you to your coronation, shall we?” 

\---

“With this crown, this staff, and by the powers vested in me, by the Royal Court of Altea, I hereby name you ‘Crowned Princess Allura of Altea, successor to the throne, and commander of the royal guard.’ Rise, and greet your followers.” 

The guards snapped to attention, Lotor among them, pride bubbling over in his chest. She did it, she made it through the coronation. In his position as captain por tempore, he called the final commands to end the ceremony. His quintents slaving through officer training weren’t so useless after all. “Atten-hut! Present arms!” He couldn’t contain the grin on his face as the thundering clamor of the ceremonial axes filled the chapel. “Ready… break!” He roared, rushing out the doors to congratulate Allura. 

He flew through the doors, heavy dark wood clanging against stone, to find... him, Alfor, in loving embrace with his daughter. “King Alfor, you’re home! What a fantastic surprise!” Lotor advanced joyously, before meeting murderous eyes, halting him in his tracks. “Wh-what happened?” Alfor pushed Allura briskly but carefully to the side, knocking her off-balance. 

“Your father refuses to see reason. The alliance is broken. This means war.” He spat spitefully in Lotor’s frightened face. “Guards! See to it that every Galra is removed from the premises and put into holding for further questioning. I’ll take care of the Prince myself.” Pandemonium broke loose, sounds of screaming, broken dishware, and pathetically one-sided battles echoed through the long halls in the once peaceful, sacred church. 

Lotor froze. Does he help the innocent Galra people escape? Does he assist his army in detaining them? Why was Alfor doing this, why does he suddenly hate him? A firm hand clenched down on Lotor’s shoulder, shaking him free of his shocked stupor. 

A much kinder look in his eyes, Alfor pulled him aside. “Come, my child. We have much to discuss.” Lotor scanned the chaotic surroundings frantically. Where was she?

Lotor broke free of Alfor’s grasp, pinning the older man to the wall. “What of Allura, where is she? Was she taken? Why weren’t you protecting her? Answer me!” Lotor growled his accusations dangerously. Alfor raised a hand in response, yield.

Lotor’s eyes glared with a dangerous inferno of fury, fear and betrayal. Alfor realized this was most directed towards him. He took a long, slow breath before answering calmly. “Allura is safe, the guards helped her to the palace before I gave the order. You failed to notice in the commotion.” 

Lotor pulled away, slightly less aggravated, but still infuriated. “Commotion?” He spat, Alfor’s political tongue had a way of de-escalating situations. Fine within his kingdom, but while explaining his own acts of tyranny, hypocritical and alarming. “This isn’t commotion, this is chaos! Why are you doing this? Are you going to send me away too?” 

Alfor rose, pulling the invigorated prince into a hug. “I cannot force you to leave. You are a member of my family, and my guard. You will always have a home here on Altea. With us. With Allura.” He stared forlorn into Lotor’s tearful eyes. “I caution you to think however, about the impact your staying here will have on your empire and your people. You are a ruler, Lotor. It’s in your blood. With your parents corrupt and your military fading, your people need a strong leader, a protector. Right now, you’re the only one that can give that to them. I do not hate the Galra, only Zarkon and his greedy pack. There’s a hidden tunnel just down this hallway. If you follow it, you should reach your shuttle without harm.” He gestured to a darker sector of the hall. 

“Should you choose to stay, you will be admitted as a permanent member of the royal guard and you will serve in Princess Allura’s private detail. You can never be adopted, coronated or married into our family line as long as you have galra blood in your veins. As war with your empire grows, the people will begin distrust you, and I cannot promise you your safety, guard or not.” Tears began to cloud the old ruler’s eyes, mirroring those of the heartbroken child before him. Lotor knew what he must do, but it tore him apart: his gentle soul, shredded. “Son, it pains me so dearly to face you with this choice. One you should never have to face, to stay here or return home-” Alfor started.

Lotor’s resolve shattered, he sputtered through heart-wrenching sobs, “Daibazaal isn’t my home! It was never my home! My home is here, in Altea. I don’t want to return to my people if it means I leave you.” His voice cracked near the end, and he dissolved into Alfor’s supporting arms. “B-but I know I can’t stay.” Lotor confessed somberly, regaining what little composure he had to offer. “I swore an oath to my people. And now I swear an oath to you, Alfor. No matter where I go, what deeds I do to protect my people, near or far, soon or an eternity away, I will find my way back home. I will come home. Thank you, Alfor, for everything.” He paused to wipe away the hot tears burning his face. “Please, just, make something up to tell Allura, so it’s easier for her to let me go. Turn me into a villain if you must. If I see her now, I don’t think I’ll ever leave.” With stinging words on his tongue, and a final embrace, Lotor ran for the tunnel, tears like acid in his eyes, a black hole consuming the tattered remains of his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Lotor, nowhere to go and no place to call home. (Song ref anyone?) Never even got to say goodbye. 
> 
> This chapter was super fun, there's still some mistakes, but I know I'll never post anything if I try to fix it all. We're switching off chapters from here on out, so Chapter 3 will be written by my lovely partner. Check out her other work, it is fantastic!
> 
> Thanks for reading, let us know if you enjoyed it!  
> ~Miraculart


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yes, my darling,” Zarkon whispered. “It is as you say. I promise you. He will not refuse me.”

Lotor returned to chaos. 

To the average observer’s eye, Daibazaal was as it had been since the alchemist Honerva had begun her research on the rift. But Lotor was not an average observer. Trained to be a warrior from a young age, he could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating. He almost slowed his steps to put off the inevitable encounter with his father, but refrained. Lotor was many things. A coward was not one of them. 

He passed the hallway that led to his and his generals’ rooms and caught Acxa and Ezor on their way back from the training area. 

“Acxa, Ezor,” he nodded, allowing a smile when they returned the gesture. “Where are Zethrid and Narti?”

“Narti’s just behind us,” Ezor supplied. “We broke all the robots in the training room so Zethrid is crushing real skulls now.”

She seemed unconcerned, as though Zethrid causing others bodily harm was a common occurrence. It was, of course, and Lotor was unfortunately rather proud.

He bade them goodbye, steeling himself internally for what his father had in wait now that relations with the Alteans had taken a turn for the worse. _It’s sad_ , Lotor thought, _that I know what side I would pick should war truly be upon us, and that it is not my father’s_. Though he wouldn’t really count Zarkon as his father, not since he was a child. 

Narti slunk past as he lost himself in his thoughts, and he turned just quick enough to catch Kova’s gaze. He repressed a shudder. Kova was a friend in Lotor’s youth, but as his mother had ailed so Kova had too, becoming frightening and reserved. She preferred Narti’s silent company to others, and Narti’s apparent psychic predisposition coupled with Honerva’s magic made her a perfect candidate to serve as the half-Galra general’s eyes. 

“Lotor.”

Ah, quiznak. 

“Father,” Lotor said, barely managing to suppress his exasperation. “I’ve just returned fro-Father? What’s wrong?”

Zarkon had the look of a mad king, his eyes wide, flitting this way and that. 

“My son,” he called, his voice low. Lotor froze. He hadn’t been called ‘son’ by anyone other than Alfor for a long time now. 

“Yes?” he asked, tentative. 

Zarkon turned, disappearing around the corner and returning a moment later to furiously beckon Lotor along. 

“You must come with me at once,” he hastened, ignoring the prince’s confusion. 

Lotor followed, if for no other reason than curiosity, cautiously studying his father’s movements. Reckless, desperate. Both traits he had never attributed to his father. 

It took him an embarrassingly long moment to realize they were headed for his mother’s quarters. _Huzzah_ , he thought dryly, _family reunion_. 

A glance left, then right, and Zarkon was gently pushing open the door to Honerva’s room. Lotor raised an eyebrow but slipped through silently. And what a sight she was to see. 

Honerva was, for lack of a better word, ruined. Her hair hung in lank, sweaty sheets around her face, the lifeless white a far cry from the deep blue it had once been. She blinked quickly, eyes wide and manic, spidered across with red lines. A nonsensical jumble of words spilled from her mouth. Lotor picked out ‘quintessence’ and ‘dying’ and ‘lions.’ 

He frowned, trying to piece together his mother’s ramblings. The lions of Voltron, of which his father was the leader, were living creatures through the power of this ‘quintessence’ his mother’s team had harvested from the rift. Besides this, Lotor knew next to nothing about it, what without a chance to ever view Honerva’s research. 

“Yes, my darling,” Zarkon whispered. “It is as you say. I promise you. He will not refuse me.”

Lotor had yet to move from his corner when his father turned to him. 

“Lotor,” he murmured, only half present, “My child. You must watch after your mother for me, for just a short time. I must go to Altea.”

At that, Lotor jerked to attention. “Altea? Whatever for? Alfor is tired of your antics, Father, and rightfully so. The rift is dangerous,” his voice quieted. “Just look at mother.”

If he expected a reprimand, he never got one. 

“I know,” Zarkon replied, voice matched to Lotor’s. “If only I had listened to my dear friend.”

Something twisted deep in Lotor’s gut to hear his father call Alfor ‘friend,’ after all this. Lotor’s uncle had been exactly that, and Zarkon had continuously pushed him away. And now that everything was falling apart, finally he would see reason, and turn to the friend he didn’t deserve. Lotor knew Alfor would accept him anyway. 

“I plan to close the rift,” Zarkon said, eyes creasing when Honerva clawed at his gauntlets. “No more harm will come to the people of this universe from that wretched tear.”

“You’ll need Voltron,” Lotor deduced. 

Zarkon nodded, touching his forehead briefly to Honerva’s. A flash of bitterness consumed Lotor, as he wished distantly that his father looked at him with even an ounce of the emotion he showed his wife. Then Allura crossed his mind and he brushed the thought away. 

“Go, then,” Lotor said, moving forward with practiced smoothness to perch on the edge of Honerva’s bed. 

His father still looked put off, but he acquiesced, leaving his wife in the hands of his abandoned son. 

Sharp fingernails dug into the armor on his wrist, designed to bend, but not break. Lotor winced. 

“Voltron,” Honerva whispered. 

“Yes, mother,” Lotor replied, letting his exhaustion bleed through. “As you say.”

-

When Lotor awoke, his mother was gone. He blinked slow, sluggish. That wasn’t right. Lotor was a warrior; he did not fall asleep on the job. 

_And Honerva was a magician._

Lotor swore, leaping from the bed and thundering through the castle towards the lab that held the rift. How could he have been so foolish? Someone like his father having a sudden change of heart? He cursed the foolish child in him for wanting to believe. The Zarkon and Honerva from his childhood were long gone, and it was past time to accept it. 

Druids stood post at the door, and their hands raised the second they were alerted to his presence. Lotor felt his back slam into the wall and he flicked his wrist, easing a knife into the familiar cradle of his fingers. 

“Lotor!” 

He turned in time to watch Zethrid barrel into the hall, his other three generals not far behind. They quickly occupied the druids’ attention, and Acxa turned to nod. Go. 

He went, throwing himself at the door and kicking it through. It seemed his mother no longer possessed enough strength for warding spells. 

He burst through in time to watch the lions descend into the rift. 

“No!” he yelled, calling the paladins’ names until his throat felt scraped raw. “No, you must stop! Uncle Alfor! Uncle, please! Sir Blaytz! Lady Trigel! Hear me!”

They could not. 

Lotor forced himself to watch as his father left the safety of the Black Lion, Honerva’s body held carefully in his arms. The magic of the rift—quintessence—seemed to coalesce around them for a moment, wrapping them in sheafs of glowing light. His mother’s skin darkened to a deep blue, scarlet lines running like blood down her face. Her half-open eyes were without iris, yellow throughout. Similarly, his father too seemed to be taking on some strange evolution, paler, but more muscular, his glowing eyes thin and cruel. 

There was a distinctive thud as Lotor dropped to his knees, unable to bear the site. Alfor’s face was the last he saw, worry and fear etched into the lines, before his vision went black. 

-

“Where are we?” Lotor’s voice was cold. 

Zarkon did not spare him a glance. “Daibazaal is gone. Destroyed by Alfor’s treachery.”

Lotor felt fury climbing like molten lava in his throat, but his father’s next words stopped him short.

“For that, we shall destroy Altea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so that was my go! megan's got next chapter (it's gonna be awesome, i assure you). any spelling/grammar mistakes are my tired eyes skimming over them and i apologize. thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor commits treason against the Galra Empire and suffers the consequences.

_ “For that, we shall destroy Altea.”  _ Lotor’s blood froze in his veins. Of course he was upset with Alfor, Daibazaal is the home of his people, the ones he swore to protect. But what Zarkon proposed, destroying his home? Nausea swept over Lotor’s frame, the minimal contents of his weary stomach emptied on the cold metal panels, covering the battleship floor. 

 

What of Alfor? Coran? What of Allura? Would they all perish at the hands of his father’s army? He blanched at the thought. 

 

Zarkon scoffed, “What’s the matter, boy? Still loyal to those Altean pricks? Maybe you should join them!” The emperor raised a heavy fist, preparing to strike a finishing blow to Lotor’s nape. 

 

Lotor stood despite his shaking knees, he’d have to be stronger now, for Allura. His composure steeled itself, preparing for the worst. “No, sir, just a quick bout of star-sickness, that is all.”

 

Zarkon’s fist lowered slowly to his side, a skeptical glare flaring through his fluorescent gaze. “Star-sickness? Fine, soldier. Prove your worth in battle. Take your squadron and lead the ground assault. I trust that you know your way around their security systems, yes?” 

 

Lotor held his gaze, “Yes, sir, give me 6 vargas to prep my team and-” 

 

Zarkon cut him off with a growl- “No! We move now.” 

 

Lotor sighed, he must comply. “Vrepit sa.” 

 

He dismissed himself, sprinting for the hangar. He opened the comms tab on his combat suit, “Axca, Ezor, Zethrid, Narti, on me! Get to the ships, we leave for Altea immediately!” His team had to get there first. They wouldn’t be able to communicate with their Galra comm lines, he was about to commit treason, after all. His generals would follow him, but he couldn’t risk being outed before the time would arrive.

 

He leapt into his fighter, clasping the custom helmet atop his head. It contained a transmission scrambler unique to his team. He had to fight for these custom communications but eventually he was able to convince the Quintessence Technology Firm to fill his order. He hadn’t had the chance to test it yet, but it should be able to pick up signals from Alfor’s army on Altea. “Everyone ready to go?” 

 

“Copy, Lotor, why are we going to Altea? We’re on private comms so I expect you to be honest.” Zethrid spoke spitefully through her mic. 

 

“My orders are to lead a ground assault through the weakest defenses on Altea.” Lotor responded cooly.

 

“What? That’s insane! Their weapons grade system is better than our blast shields by light-years. We’ll never make it through their defenses.” Ezor cried, astonished by their leader’s poor judgement.

 

“Calm down Ezor, I told you those were my orders. Your orders are to protect the royal family of Altea at all costs. I am committing treason against the Galra Empire, you are following the orders of your commanding officer. Questions?” Lotor enunciated every word clear and with purpose. If Zarkon is planning to destroy his home, there isn’t much Lotor can do about that. But he will protect his family against all odds. At the very least he has to try. 

 

The five sat in a silent stupor, Lotor, through with his decision, called out a final order, “No questions? Then let’s move out!” 

 

* * *

 

 

Zarkon loomed over the unconscious form of his wife. She had nearly passed away just as he entered the rift with her. When they exited the rift, her essence of life returned, but her consciousness did not. 

 

“What have I done, sweet Honerva? I’ve saved your life, yet you do not wake. Why do I only feel this emptiness inside me? This rage?” He sat at the end of the bed, stoic as ever, his only emotion shown through his fist, clenched tight by his side. His other hand trembled forward, as if to provide some reassurance to his unmoving wife, “Not to worry my love, the destruction of our planet will be avenged by our son’s heroic hand. When you wake, we will reign supreme over the edges of the empire. We will grow our empire to the vast reaches of the universe!” 

 

Honerva’s eyes snapped open. Zarkon flinched at her awakening, such power she emitted, such control. Her aura seemed to burn with black unforgiving flames. A cold, distant voice filled the fiendish void, swirling around the small medical room.  _ “Honerva is dead, husband. All that’s left has become this haggish shell… henceforth, I am the all-powerful druid, Haggar.”  _

 

Zarkon stumbled forward, dropping to his knees in agony, something burned within him, boiling over the edges, a desire for power, a hunger for control, and a fear of the witch that lay before him. The fires lit like suns beneath his skin, boiling up through his chest. And then it stopped, it quelled quick as the night, leaving a heaving, fearful giant to mourn it’s loss. 

 

A new voice, less ethereal, creaked from his bedridden mate. “Zarkon, the boy, Lotor, he will warn the Alteans of our arrival. He intends to fight by their side. His generals have already accepted their orders.” She paused for a moment, audibly swallowing through a sandpaper throat. “He must be stopped.” 

 

Zarkon rose to one knee, dipping his head to the druid. “Yes, Haggar. Your wisdom shall guide my hand.” He stood, saluting the shadow leader. “Vrepit sa!” And he left without a word. 

 

* * *

 

 

_ “A squadron of cruisers is on our tail, it appears that they are hostile. Do we have a leak within the group?”  _ Lotor cringed at the mental intrusion. 

 

_ “Narti, you’re supposed to give a warning before communicating like this.”  _ He sincerely hoped that nobody on his team leaked their location, but their private comms were secure within the Galra fleet’s radio system. 

 

Narti replied sincerely. “ _ My apologies sir, but the hostiles are approaching quickly, what should we do?” _

Lotor banged a fist on his console. They couldn’t risk a leak within the team, but they had to avoid the incoming Galra cruisers. He barked orders hastily. “Okay team, we’ve been compromised, put up camo shields and head for Altea. I’m routing coordinates to each of your cruisers. If we break rank we’ll be harder to catch. I’ll have Narti check in with everyone when we reach the surface.” He scrambled to send out the directions to each drop point, fully intending to keep everyone but himself and Narti far away from the castle. 

 

Each of their shields went up and they went their separate paths. “ _ Okay, I’m on my own now. I’ve got to reach Allura. When you hit ground send the team coordinates for rendezvous at the druid church in Aoef. I will meet you there once I’ve secured the royal family.”  _ Narti is the only one he could trust completely right now, as she warned him of their leak. Lotor sprung to action, whirling his ship around, he’d eliminate the cruisers immediately behind them and spare the team a tic or two. It wouldn’t be long before the entire empire knew of this felony. 

 

He fired hundreds of shots, sending a barrage towards the fleet. He saw them make contact, destroying the cruisers and the galra inside. “ _ I’m sorry, brothers.” _ He thought his condolences, willing them to reach the people he fought alongside for many quintents. 

 

Turning back to the steering column, he pushed the ship onward towards Altea. Or at least, he tried. His arm moved through time slowly and reluctantly, as if tied to a string somewhere behind him. He tried his other arm to no avail, he pressed on harder, his body just wouldn’t respond. The ship itself began to slow, the images outside blurring, like traveling through a black hole. And then it stopped. He moved quickly again, falling into the side of his controls. They were unresponsive, broken. Looking out through the visuals, there was nothing. Just, space. Where was he? How did this happen? What of Altea? 

 

_ “Hello, son.”  _ A gravelly voice filled the cabin, dark flames consuming the innards of the ship. 

 

He choked, his will and strength crushed beneath overwhelming power. “Honerva? Is that you?” He managed to croak, fighting for breath. 

 

_ “You committed treason against the Galra Empire. After 10,000 quintents, you have served your time in exile. Your father is sick, on his deathbed. It is time for you to return, it is time to rule your empire.”  _ The voice never answered him. But 10,000 quintents? Did the Galra win? Is Altea destroyed? Did Allura make it out alive?

 

_ “Altea is destroyed!”  _ The voice growled, clearly unpleased. “ _ Your loyalty lies with the Galra Empire now. Return, my son, and avenge your father’s death. Defeat Voltron!” _

 

“Zarkon was defeated by Voltron? How is that possible without the pilot of the Black Lion?” He wondered aloud. The pressure subsided considerably. 

 

She(?) responded angrily, “ _ Voltron has chosen new pilots. They defeated your father, and now they attempt to destroy our Empire. Return and rule as your father did before you!”  _

 

“If I return, I’m the emperor of the Galra Empire?” Lotor questioned. If he’s truly the emperor, the Galra will have no choice but to follow his command. 

 

_ “You are the rightful heir to the throne. Return.” _ His ship rebooted, the controls flashing and returning to their previous state. Through his screen he could see the locations of his team, and of the command fleet. 

 

“Alright, I’ll return and command my army.” He felt the power leave the ship, taking in a large, much needed breath. “But first, I need to visit some old friends.” He routed the coordinates in his fleet for Altea. His ship jumped to hyperdrive, the stars returning slowly through his view of hyperspace.  _ The Alteans must have won. They must have forged a peace contract with the Galra. That’s the only way the Empire could have grown this large. _ He thought to himself as he studied the growing map of the universe.

 

He noticed that Altea wasn’t shown on the map. Likely a precaution on Alfor’s part, he was always so cautious regarding information.

 

“You have arrived.” His console spoke freely, but didn’t make sense. There was no Altea in this system, just a strange asteroid belt. 

 

“Computer, reroute for Altea.” He spoke nervously, not wanting to admit what must be true.

 

“You have arrived.” He screamed in anguish. It couldn’t be so.

 

“Reroute for Altea!” He commanded frantically. 

 

“You have arrived.” He slammed both hands on his console, his voice command reader must be broken. He flitted about the cabin, manually inputting the specific coordinates for Alfor’s castle. The ship began to move, and he released the breath he didn’t realize he’d held. He saw the ships of his generals arrive one by one, moving to join him.

 

“You have arrived.” 

 

His heart sank deep into his chest. His blood froze, and boiled, then froze, and boiled again. The ruins of Altea drifted aimlessly. A once proud planet with beautiful seas and skies, reduced to bits of tarnished rubble. What kind of weapons did his father possess that could cause such caustic destruction? 

 

Hot tears charred the skin on his face, carving canyons of despair into his heart. His home, destroyed. He’d never walk the stunning palace grounds again. His family, gone. His shoulders would never bear the hand of Alfor, donning a proud smile. His chest would never feel crushed by the power of an Altean hug from Coran. He’d never taste the delicious food made by the royal chefs. He’d never train with his fellow knights on the soft Altean grass. He’d never see Allura again. 

 

A fresh wave of agony bent his heart and twisted it to ruins. The tears becoming acid that burned into his eyes, cursed to never witness the place where he truly belonged again. He wailed, remembering all the happy moments in his childhood. He shouted and screamed with every passing memory of Allura’s smile, of her laugh. He tore at the hair on his head, remembering how she used to braid it so gently, so lovingly. He sobbed, curling himself into the smallest, most insignificant little ball in the universe. Without her, he was nothing. 

 

Narti’s voice interrupted his mourning. “ _ Lotor, I’m sorry to intrude, but we need to leave. Our comms are down, Haggar visited all of us before you. It is time to return to command.”  _

 

His gentle soul, his kind heart, shattered by loss, were replaced with a pit of rage and a hellish resentment towards his parents that he could never forgive.  _ “Narti, inform the others of these commands: We will take rightful control of the Galra Empire. We will liberate the workers enslaved by my predecessor. We will destroy Voltron. Penance must be paid, too many lives have been lost to this war. Let us end all war under the united Galra front.”  _

 

A tone Lotor had yet to hear from his most expressionless general, fear, crept through her reply. “Yes, sir. Vrepit sa.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been so much fun to write! Thanks to Shreya for the core idea of this chapter. Hope you enjoyed it! I might write a couple drabbles related to this story just because I have some idea that don't fit within the plot. Hope you're enjoying! 
> 
> Come check out Voltron Content and more on my tumblr: miraculart.tumblr.com   
> And take a look at the rest of Shreya's work, this woman is a goddess: litttlewings.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a quick note! in this chapter the galra are as of yet unaware there has been a change to the paladin lineup :)

A return to command, but this time at the proverbial helm of the ship. 

Zarkon was alive, meaning that until he perished, the Kral Zera would not be held. The witch Haggar’s summons for Lotor meant she intended to use him as a conduit for her power; her puppet. 

Foolishness. He would not bend to the will of she who destroyed Altea, destroyed the one place in the universe he had ever truly felt happy, destroyed _Allura_. 

The loss burned deep in his heart, threatening to eat him alive. Allura was a warrior and a leader, compassionate and strong and entirely undeserving of Zarkon’s meaningless rage. Alfor, her father, with a ruling hand both just and gentle, lost to the folly of Lotor’s power-driven father. A whole beautiful, advanced culture _gone_. The explorer in Lotor’s heart quivered in untold rage at the thought. He remembered lying next to Allura in the palace, her mother spinning fantastical tales of the magical land of Oriande, and how only those who were chosen could enter. 

As time had passed, Lotor had found there to be more truth in the Altean folktales than he had originally assumed. He had been near to pinpointing the location of Oriande after stumbling upon the ruins of an Altean temple. The plan had been to show Allura on the next celebration of her birth. All that was lost, now. 

“Lotor,” Acxa’s voice cut into his thoughts. He loosened his grip on the controls. “We are nearing the coordinates sent to us by the high priestess.”

“Copy that,” he replied, raising his eyes to scan the defensive barrier. His eyes widened comically at what he saw. 

The Galra command center was…incredible. A ring of battle cruisers circled the monstrous structure at it’s center, and Lotor’s scanners were picking up the presence of a _solar barrier_. The technology was far beyond the capabilities of the Galra, soldiers, not scientists. Lotor’s fascination with other cultures and their science had been developed through his Altean side, and the stories his mother Honerva had told him when he was very little. This was no doubt the work of enslaved intellects. 

The cruisers parted at his entrance, and he was guided to the bay doors to land his ship. Zethrid and Narti followed in theirs. 

They were met by a hunched woman, a hood covering much of her face. Masked druids stood at her side, unmoving, as though they were not truly alive. 

“Prince Lotor,” the wretched woman said, her coarse voice filled with mocking deference. “Welcome.” 

“Priestess,” he acknowledged with as little derision as possible. 

“Come.” She swept out of the room in a strange fashion, almost gliding. Lotor repressed a full-body shiver at the sight.

He followed her down a maze of hallways, taking in the excessive structure of the building and making mental notes of interesting doors and halls. 

_‘She is leading us in circles.’_ Narti’s voice spilled through his mind. Lotor glanced at Kova, who sat peaceably enough on Narti’s shoulder, acting as her eyes. 

_‘Ridiculous.'_ Zethrid growled through the mental link.

 _‘Primitive, I’ll admit. It also means she does not trust us.’_ Lotor replied.

Eventually, they reached an immense pair of sliding doors with a sensor lock off to the side. 

_‘Subtle,’_ Ezor jabbed sarcastically. Lotor’s mouth twitched in amusement. 

That lasted until the doors slid open, and Lotor caught sight of his father. 

His mouth fell open in silent surprise at the number that been done on the emperor. Much of his body had been shorn clear off, and he was connected to a series of twisting tubes keeping him on the edge of life. The generals were silent behind him, taken aback at the destruction before them. Unsurprisingly, Lotor’s only thought was that Zarkon had gotten what was coming for him. His affections for a father in the distant past were nothing compared to his hatred for Altea’s destroyer. It was an unforgivable error, and Lotor would do whatever he had to to take back the empire from his father’s quintessence-driven madness and make it a place of thriving culture, life, and glory. He made a soft noise of disgust and raised an eyebrow at the witch. 

“You did mention the emperor was out of comission, High Priestess. I don’t think you were descriptive enough in that.”

Her eyes narrowed into caustic yellow slits, but she said nothing, laying a gnarled blue hand on the fallen emporer’s face before drawing back and leaving the room. Lotor cast one glance back at his father, then followed.

-

“Prince-”

“Before you say anything,” Lotor interrupted, knowingly courting the witch’s ire. “I understand what my father’s current position means for the leadership of the empire, and I will begin preparing should the Kral Zera come to pass, but understand this and understand it well: I am not my father, nor am I your puppet. I will rule this empire as I see fit to, and nothing you say or offer will change that.”

 _‘You are walking a dangerous line, Lotor,’_ Axca warned. Lotor acknowledged this with a tilt of his head. 

_‘Trust me.’_

The witch’s glare was acidic, but Lotor met her head on. Finally, she looked away, teeth grinding in poorly restrained fury. 

“I understand,” she ground out. “But the more pressing issue as of now, is Voltron.”

Lotor had to physically restrain himself from flinching at the name. Not for the memories of his father, no, for the memories of the first blue paladin, Blaytz, who had carried Lotor around on his shoulders as he described the expansive wonders of his planet, Nalquod. For Trigel, who had been exceptionally intelligent and showed Lotor and Allura how to navigate the fields of the Dalterion Belt. For Gyrgan, who had taught him the intricate religion of the planet Rygnirath. And finally for Alfor, who had been more a father to him than Zarkon ever was. 

“Voltron.” He forced the name past his lips. “What do we know about it?” 

“The Lions had been scattered about the universe when Altea was destroyed. We searched, but the new paladins got to them before we could. The first found was the Blue Lion, on planet Earth.”

Lotor blinked. “Earth?” he asked incredulously. What a strange and obscure planet for Alfor to send a Lion to. “The Blue Paladin is a human?”

“They are all human,” Haggar replied. “But you should know this. The Black Lion was stationed on planet Arus, inside the Castle of Lions.”

“The Castle of-How did the humans ever manage to open the hangar?”

“We do not think they did. The Castle is always there when Voltron appears, offering support. Someone must be operating it.”

Lotor didn’t bother masking his amazement. “They would have to be Altean. Someone survived the planet’s destruction.” 

If she was suspicious of Lotor’s enthusiasm, Haggar gave no indication. 

“Yes,” she said. “And you will kill them.”

Lotor hummed, thrilled for a reason Haggar would never know. “Or torture them,” he added, for good measure. As if he would ever. 

But Haggar knew nothing about him, and Lotor would continue to use that in his favor. 

Ezor snorted over the link. _‘Try being a little less obvious.’_

The witch dismissed them after filling them on what they needed to know, recommending they stop by one of the control centers to sync their navigation system with a new map of the empire. 

On the guise of checking the new star charts, they headed down to the information wing and Narti and Ezor slipped off to do some digging into what was hidden in the deep dark corners of Central Command. Zethrid stood watch as Acxa and Lotor hacked into the mainframe to learn more about the empire’s losses to Voltron and, more pressing on Lotor’s mind, the fluctuating energy levels around the ruins of planet Daibazaal. 

They had made a stop at Lotor’s planet of birth before continuing on to the command center, and had been astonished to find that the quintessence readings around the destruction had been unnaturally high. Lotor was determined to find out why. 

Acxa took a step back from her screen, eyes wide. 

“Um, Lotor? You may want to see this.”

He strode over to his general’s screen to evaluate what she had found, disbelief washing over him with every word. 

“A _transreality comet_?” That had not at all been what Lotor was expecting but just the _thought_ of what could be done with a _transreality comet_ in his possession made him quiver with excitement. 

Lotor’s mind was already developing a plan of action. Pulling the comet out of the interdimensional rift it existed in would be impossible without the help of something else with such power. And the only existing remnant wielding the power Lotor needed was, conveniently, Voltron. 

“Round up the others. We make for Daibazaal immediately.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's ch.5!! we are no longer canon compliant, but there will be definitely be some canon adjacent scenes tweaked to fit our storyline! thanks so much for reading :) 
> 
> you can scream at me on tumblr @littlewings and meg @miraculart
> 
> next chapter is their go!! excite

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let us know if you liked it! Comments, kudos, and questions are all appreciated. 
> 
> Want more Voltron content? Check out my tumblr miraculart.tumblr.com for Voltron, Miraculous Ladybug, and more! (She's amazing and you'll love her, I promise)
> 
> Also take a look at litttlewings.tumblr.com for more great writing and art! (Seriously, do it, she's awesome. This story wouldn't be possible without her!!)


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